A Sense of Belonging
Born and raised in Israel, my upbringing was about as far as you could imagine from skiing. I was first introduced to the sport as a teenager when an old family friend invited us to come along for a week vacation at a small resort in the French Alps. The experience changed the entire arc of my life—from then on, skiing would play a major role.
Several years later, having completed three years of military service and with only a few weeks of ski experience under my belt, I set off on a multi-year journey that would take me skiing all over Europe. My deep passion for the sport and photography merged, and I collected incredible memories and captured breathtaking images. However, there was always a piece missing from the puzzle: a sense of belonging.
Early in 2016, I made my first trip to Whistler, British Columbia. On my first day of skiing and shooting, a group of athletes and I stayed out late in hopes of catching sunset on Disease Ridge, a classic zone below Blackcomb Peak and only a short tour from the resort’s chairlifts. The views from the top of the exposed ridge reveal the Spearhead Range on one side and Whistler’s iconic Black Tusk on the other. Steep spine lines form on its northwest aspect, a result of the Coast Mountains’ prolific storms and dense maritime snowpack. The terrain and setting have garnered quite a reputation for skiers and photographers alike.
It was a cold, frosty January day, and clouds had obscured the sun for most of the day. It began to break up just a bit in the afternoon, so we set off for Disease Ridge. After 30 minutes touring, we reached the crest and waited patiently on the ridge for over an hour, fingers crossed for a clear window. What happened next was nothing short of amazing.
The sun eventually broke through a thin line between the clouds and the peaks in the distance, painting the northwest faces of Disease Ridge with explosive, vibrant alpenglow. Rays of light that broke through the sky shimmered across the slopes—a spectacular light show.
My heart beat like mad as we rushed to set up as many photos as possible. I moved down the steep and exposed slopes of Disease Ridge to get in position, capturing shot after shot of the athletes ripping down—the pace and sensation was a completely new experience for me. The surreal moment lasted only about ten minutes, but it came to change my life.
Later that same year, I decided to move to Whistler. Ever since, I’ve called this special place home.
After my first experience on Disease Ridge, I’ve returned many times. Often, I go there with my full camera setup and a crew of skiers. Other times, I find myself there simply to enjoy the mountains.
Disease Ridge inspired and shaped me as a photographer. Each time I’m up there with the camera, I’m presented with an opportunity to create something new and unique. The snow conditions, light, and environment are constantly shifting; it’s a classroom that taught me to be dynamic and continually work to showcase the mountain’s conditions, whatever they may be.
Disease Ridge provided me with the ability to sharpen my skills as a skier and photographer; it plays a huge role in my portfolio and professional work. But most importantly, it provided me with an inalienable sense of belonging.
